Ex Hunter Current Queen, All That’s Left Is the Actual Battle

Translator: White Lotus 

“Calint. Come over here.”

“So you remembered my name. I’m honored, my Queen.”

The moment Jackson spoke his name, Calint strode forward, stopping just shy of brushing against Jackson’s back.

That rich, pleasant baritone of his suddenly felt dangerously close. Jackson flinched as he felt Calint’s breath near his ear, his tightly clenched hands twitching involuntarily. Sure, he’d come when called, even with Jackson’s deliberately blunt tone, but the way he kept addressing him as ‘queen’ grated on Jackson’s nerves.

Ever since the moment Jackson realized that this monstrous young man might actually view him in a sexual light, he’d grown painfully aware of every one of Calint’s glances and movements. It made him overly cautious, his guard constantly up.

Pervert. Freak. Sick bastard.

There was no telling what kind of deviant move he might make when Jackson least expected it. His nerves were so on edge it was as if he were willing himself to sprout eyes in the back of his head.

But Calint didn’t do anything. He simply stood there, unmoving, as though he had no plans to take the next step.

“What are you just standing there for? Quit looming and untie the knot at the back of this dress.”

“I’m simply overwhelmed with emotion, my Queen. After all, this is the first time you’ve called me by my name.”

A low chuckle escaped Calint as he bent down, his hands moving to the knot that had trapped Jackson in the dress. Unfortunately, the knot was in a pitiful state, tied so tightly and haphazardly pulled from various directions that it had bunched up into something resembling a small, stubborn pebble.

“You went through so much trouble. You could’ve just called me from the beginning,” Calint said with a faint smile as he began to work on the knot with careful precision.

As the knot gradually loosened, Jackson could feel himself breathing more freely. He swore to himself that he’d never wear something so utterly useless and suffocating ever again.

The Arachron king watched the sweat-soaked back of his human queen as he wrestled with the dress. There was something unexpectedly endearing about Jackson. He was quick to surrender but just as quick to act brazenly. That mix of shameless bravado and unfiltered embarrassment gave him a curious charm.

Calint found himself entertained by the contradictions, so much so that Jackson’s rude remarks and rough mannerisms barely registered anymore. In fact, the thought of refining and taming this wild human intrigued him. With that in mind, Calint untied the final knot.

With a soft snap, the dress that had clung so tightly to Jackson’s body slithered down in a silken cascade.

“What the—!”

Jackson had expected the dress to stay in place once the knots were undone, giving him a chance to slip out of it. Instead, it fell immediately, leaving him utterly exposed with no time to cover himself.

“You… You…!”

No matter how bold or reckless his actions had been before, there was no preparing for the mortifying experience of standing completely naked. It was a whole new level of humiliation. Even with his naturally darker skin tone, the furious red blush spreading across Jackson’s body was impossible to miss.

“I told you not to look….!”

“I’ve turned my head. Hurry and put on my coat.”

Calint spoke calmly, his head turned deliberately to the side, standing a fair distance away. Meanwhile, Jackson huffed and muttered under his breath, awkwardly crouching to cover only his front while pulling his feet free from the tangled pile of dress. The instant his sweat-drenched body met the cool air, a chill spread across his skin, making his teeth chatter involuntarily.

As Jackson threw on the outer garment, Calint maintained his position, keeping his head turned to the side as if respecting his privacy. What he didn’t mention, however, was that Arachrons possessed a far wider field of vision compared to humans. Even without turning their heads, they could see everything happening behind them with perfect clarity. In fact, they could even read a series of numbers held up behind their back—rendering the act of averting one’s gaze entirely meaningless.

Still, the king thought it refreshing to humor his human queen’s flustered reactions. They were novel to him, and he didn’t mind indulging them from time to time. He also found himself oddly satisfied by how well his cloak suited Jackson, especially considering it was merely a temporary fix.

Draped in Calint’s outer garment, Jackson inspected himself to ensure it fit without issue. Though he hated to admit it, the wretched dress couldn’t compare to this. The coat, designed for a morning stroll, was both lightweight and warm, with an elegant design featuring golden embroidery that traced his body’s curves.

However, what fit Calint perfectly ended up oversized on Jackson. The Arachron’s cloak hung loosely on his frame, resembling an oversized bathrobe that extended down to cover his muscular thighs.

The downside was the flowing material, which clung to his form with every slight movement, accentuating his physique rather than concealing it. To make matters worse, the fabric was semi-transparent, allowing Jackson’s dark skin to show distinctly beneath the elegant white garment.

Frustrated, Jackson searched for a way to secure the cloak and settled for tying the empty sleeves together tightly around his waist. Since humans only had a single pair of arms, the two unused sleeves hung limply like wings, fluttering with every motion.

“All done?” Calint asked.

“Yeah, it’s done. You can turn around now.”

“It suits you well. Since it’ll take some time to prepare clothes tailored for you, you can wear this for now.”

“……Unnecessary flattery.”

“Ah, I see you tied up the sleeves. Well, with only two arms, I suppose… These parts actually spread out like this.”

Calint allowed Jackson to fumble with the garment as much as he pleased, refraining from interfering. But once Jackson had seemingly finished, Calint couldn’t resist stepping in to straighten the folds and adjust the fit. Jackson scowled, a sudden memory from childhood surfacing. His mother had always nagged him about dressing properly, constantly wiping his face or fixing his clothes.

What a ridiculous guy. Does he think he’s my mom or something?

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, followed by a servant’s voice.

[Your Majesty, I’ve brought the meal.]

Just as Jackson opened his mouth to retort, Calint shifted into a deeper, commanding tone, entirely different from the casual one he used with Jackson.

[Enter.]

At the king’s command, the servant entered, carrying a meal prepared specifically for Jackson. However, upon seeing Jackson standing face-to-face with Calint, the servant hurriedly averted his gaze. From the servant’s perspective, it looked suspiciously as though Calint had been undressing Jackson.

[This is the meal prepared for the Queen. Pl-please enjoy!]

The servant’s hands trembled as he set the table. The scandalous events from the dining hall earlier had already spread like wildfire throughout the palace, and his imagination ran wild. He thought that if he had arrived even a moment later, he might have walked in on an inappropriate scene. Not daring to linger, the servant quickly finished setting the table and dashed out of the room.

“What was he muttering just now?” Jackson asked, frowning.

Jackson’s sharp gaze followed the servant as he exited the room, annoyance simmering beneath his expression. Unable to understand the Arachron language spoken moments ago, he found himself irritated. Calint had always led their conversations in the human tongue, so hearing Arachron speech felt jarring. Watching the spiders communicate in a language he couldn’t grasp put him in an inexplicably bad mood.

Calint, meanwhile, quietly sliced some bread with a knife and placed it on Jackson’s plate, his movements calm and deliberate.

“The servant said this meal was prepared especially for you and hopes you’ll enjoy it. A thoughtful one, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Hah, of course he’d say that! You’re the strongest guy in this whole country, aren’t you? If anyone disrespects you, it’s their neck on the line.”

Jackson made a slicing motion across his throat with his hand, his tone laced with mocking humor. Calint chuckled softly, shaking his head in mild amusement.

“It doesn’t quite work that way. Even a king cannot execute someone at will.”

Jackson muttered something about how overly formal the explanation was, but his attention was soon drawn to the lavish spread laid out on the table. The rich aroma of the food hit him, and his stomach growled in response. It dawned on him then just how long he had been left hungry and neglected.

“…….”

As much as he wanted to sit down and dig in, there was a problem—there wasn’t a chair in sight. Arachrons, it seemed, dined differently, simply folding their legs beneath them as they sat on the floor. Calint, for instance, was already seated at the table in such a manner, his posture natural and composed.

But the table itself, built to suit the tall stature of the Arachrons, was much too high for Jackson. Standing before it, the edge of the table was nearly level with his chest. Looking up at the food spread out before him only made his hunger grow more insistent. His already annoyed tone turned sharper with impatience.

“Is there no chair?”

“Ah… I’d forgotten humans used those things—chairs, right? That’s a problem. Even if I were to order one sized for you, it would take some time to procure.”

The Arachron king set down the knife he had been holding, his face thoughtful. After a moment, he carefully proposed,

“I admit this is my oversight. Would you mind coming here? It seems best to settle this first so you can eat comfortably.”

Calint stretched out his arms, one hand gesturing toward his lap. Jackson’s brows twitched in irritation, but despite his growing discomfort with the situation, his hunger outweighed his annoyance. Without further complaint, he walked toward Calint. There was no energy left to dwell on whatever plans or schemes the Arachron might have.

As the queen approached, Calint lowered himself slightly, tilting his head as if asking for permission.

The suspicious look in Jackson’s eyes shifted to meet the crystalline clarity of Calint’s four pairs of eyes. Reluctantly, he leaned closer, allowing the Arachron to wrap two arms around his waist and lift him. Unlike when he was brought to the room with all four arms, this time Calint supported him with only two—one beneath his waist and the other bracing his legs. The additional two front legs, jointed like those of an insect, steadied the rest of his weight effortlessly.

“……You’re not secretly thinking of me as a child or something, are you?”

“Of course not. If anything, I’d guess you’re far older than I am. Now, open wide. I’ll feed you today.”

“You could just hand me the fork. It’s not like I’ve injured my hands.”

Calint had four arms and six legs. While his arms were entirely human-like, his legs were unmistakably those of an arthropod. What stood out, though, was that only two pairs of his legs were used for walking. The front pair, though capable of movement, didn’t touch the ground and seemed neither functional as legs nor adaptable as hands. Jackson had always found it peculiar, likening them to some vestigial limbs.

Sitting on those idle front legs, cradled securely by Calint’s firm grip, was unexpectedly comfortable. But Jackson refused to let himself relax, determined not to grow too reliant on the smug creature. His voice took on an edge as he demanded the fork again. He simply felt that he didn’t want to owe this annoying monster anything more.

“Shh. You must be tired. Now, open up. Say ah.”

Still, Calint was unyielding. Holding a piece of bread that gave off a tantalizingly nutty aroma right in front of Jackson’s face, he refused to budge. Left with no other choice, Jackson finally stopped arguing and obediently took a bite.

“Damn it….. It’s delicious.”

Considering that spiders’ primary diet was insects, Jackson had expected their meals to consist of something like a grub stew. But the flavor was far beyond his expectations. The moment he bit into the freshly baked bread, its chewy texture and the rich scent of butter hit him with surprising intensity.

“……It’s really delicious.”

The human male, who had been bristling with defiance just moments ago, forgot entirely how humiliating it was to be fed while sitting in someone else’s lap. Instead, he focused on accepting each piece of bread and meat Calint fed him, reluctantly muttering words of admiration with each bite.

The quality of the food was worlds apart from the cheap, unhygienic scraps he used to eat in back alleys. Even though Jackson had never tasted anything particularly luxurious before, he could tell that what he was eating now was prepared with only the freshest ingredients.

There was a pumpkin soup simmered to perfection with added nuts, an array of freshly baked bread, and a steak cooked just right. His initial suspicion that the sinister spiderfolk might have disguised insect-based meals was long gone. At some point, Jackson found himself quietly conceding that enduring the indignity of sitting in the lap of the smug spider king was worth it if it meant enjoying this kind of feast.

“It seems the food suits your taste. That’s a relief,” Calint remarked.

“…….Yeah. But don’t you need to eat? You’ve been feeding me this whole time,” Jackson said, his tone softer now, tempered by the delicious meal.

Hearing Jackson’s question, Calint responded with a gentle smile lingering at the corners of his lips.

“I’m fine. After all, this meal was prepared especially for you.”

“Still, you must be hungry too. You don’t need to keep feeding me. Go ahead and eat.”

“Haha, Your Majesty the Queen is truly magnanimous.”

“Stop talking nonsense.”

At Jackson Carter’s urging, Calint Lakron cut himself a piece of meat, placed it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. From where he was cradled in Calint’s arms, Jackson watched the Arachron prince’s delicate movements as he handled the utensils, feeling an odd sense of detachment.

Throughout his life, Jackson had only ever encountered nouveau riche types. They might have flaunted ostentatious displays of wealth, but the cheapness underneath was impossible to hide. Their superficial grandeur masked a crude vulgarity they couldn’t shake off, no matter how much money they flaunted. That was why Jackson never envied their wealth or bowed down to flatter them. To him, they were all the same—a façade waiting to crack.

But Calint was different.

The way he spoke, the gestures of his hands, and even his demeanor exuded a refined elegance. From this close proximity, Jackson could smell the faint trace of an expensive cologne, one that immediately seemed both foreign and luxurious. Calint never raised his voice unnecessarily; his tone was steady, his words always measured and pleasant to hear.

In short, Calint Lakron carried himself as someone who had been treated with care and reverence from the moment he was born. He was undeniably noble in every aspect. And while his manner of speech could occasionally be maddening, it bore no resemblance to the crass antics of someone like Francis.

Francis, one of the wealthiest humans Jackson had known, had a knack for goading people—insulting them in ways that felt underhanded and spiteful…… By contrast, Calint was somewhat unnerving.

Not because of the literal insectoid lower half of his body, but because of his excessive politeness, his unshakable decorum, and his persistent warmth. It was unsettling.

Jackson, held in Calint’s embrace, felt as though he were wearing shoes that didn’t quite fit—awkward and out of place.

He had wanted to insult Calint, to undermine his dignity and prove that he wasn’t all that different from anyone else. But every attempt failed spectacularly.

He had no choice but to admit it: Calint Lakron truly was every inch the royal he appeared to be.

“…….”

On the other hand, no matter how he looked at it, Jackson Carter felt completely unsuited to the role of a queen. He didn’t even know exactly what the job entailed. The absurd talk about laying eggs and fulfilling duties made his head spin, but above all, he simply didn’t think he could manage it. A middle-aged man who had spent his entire life scraping by to survive now found himself overwhelmed by the alien space and atmosphere, leaving him deeply disconnected.

“Is there anything else you’d like to eat?”

Calint Lakron’s gentle voice broke Jackson’s train of thought. Startled, Jackson tried to mask the shadow that had fallen across his face, but it was too late. Calint had already noticed his bitter expression.

“No, I’m fine… though I wouldn’t mind a drink if you have one.”

Whenever his thoughts got tangled, Jackson instinctively sought alcohol. Without a word of protest, Calint reached for a silver goblet and began pouring deep red wine into it.

The soft trickle of wine filling the goblet seemed unusually crisp to Jackson’s ears. The sharp scent wafting through the air reached his nose, and he immediately knew.

This is some good stuff.

The dark thoughts that had weighed on him just moments ago vanished, and his face brightened as though the wine had washed them away. Accepting the goblet Calint offered him, Jackson flashed his usual brash grin and held it up.

“Should you have a drink with the queen? Cheers.”

“It seems the Queen likes to drink? Very well, cheers.”

Though Jackson had previously bristled at being called queen, his mood had lifted enough for him to casually refer to himself that way now. He gave the goblet a hearty shake as if to emphasize the point. Calint, his own goblet freshly filled, smiled faintly as he raised it to clink against Jackson’s.

Clink.

As soon as the toast was over, Jackson drained his glass in one go and let out an exclamation of appreciation. The aroma was enticing enough, but the real marvel came as the liquid slid down his throat. The refreshing tang and the heat that bloomed in his chest afterward left him utterly satisfied.

“Another one.”

“You could take your time and drink slowly, you know,” Calint remarked as he refilled Jackson’s goblet, his tone carrying a hint of concern. Unlike Jackson, Calint had led a rather restrained life as a crown prince, treating alcohol as little more than an occasional indulgence.

“When the drink tastes this good, how could I?” Jackson retorted. Then, gesturing toward the food on the table, he added, “By the way, do you always get to eat food this fancy? Must be nice.”

As the alcohol started to take effect, Jackson’s tongue loosened, and he began to talk more. Calint, noticing the faint flush of intoxication spreading across Jackson’s face, nodded thoughtfully before responding.

“That’s correct. I’m always grateful to the royal chefs. And to the people who provide us with such fine grains and ingredients..… Though, to be honest, I feel a little guilty for not taking better care of them.”

“Well, if you feel bad about it, just start doing better from now on.”

“You’re right about that. Jackson, what was it like where you lived?”

For the first time, the queen looked genuinely at ease, his features softened by the warm atmosphere. Seizing the moment, Calint posed the question with an air of curiosity. Jackson paused, rolling his eyes as if dredging up memories of the city he’d left behind. After a moment, he chuckled dryly and replied, the heat from the spider king’s body and the buzz of the alcohol softening his usual rough demeanor.